


Be So Sweet

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst and Porn, Bottom Harry, Heavy Angst, M/M, Multi, Objectification, Rough Sex, Song: Lights Up (Harry Styles), Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 03:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21451507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: Marco clung to the door, waiting for—he wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t until Harry tumbled onto the center of the bed only for the other man to pounce on him, his mouth attached at Harry’s throat, that Marco finally came to the realization that no matter what had happened between them yesterday, Harry wasn’t about to invite him in to join in.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	Be So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Request involving Harry's bodyguard that he was photographed with at the airport in Cancun. It includes the Lights Up drabble that was posted Elsewhere during Kinktober, but the overall fic is a lot more angsty than that, so just a head's up!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
Tumblr: @vondrostes

Marco was under no illusions about his role.

He was luckier than most, he guessed. When he’d been sixteen, struggling to make ends meet just so his family would have dinner that night, he’d never really envisioned a future where he’d be standing on a beach outside a five-star resort, getting paid to look intimidating while an international celebrity sunbathed out on the sand just a few feet away.

Marco also hadn’t anticipated just how difficult it ended up being to force himself not to look at Harry Styles, who was miles of gleaming tan skin stretched out on his stomach, his chin resting on his hands as he stared out at the waves rolling in towards them.

Marco wasn’t attracted to men. He liked women: their curves, their softness, the way they smelled—that had always been enough for him, and he’d never felt like he wanted anything else. But Harry was curvy and soft and smelled of a woman’s perfume, too, and not even the flaccid penis that Marco had glimpsed between Harry’s legs earlier when he’d started the afternoon shift had been enough of a deterrent to curb Marco’s unexpected interest in Harry’s naked body.

Like this, with Harry’s ass the focal point of any of Marco’s stolen glances, it would have been easy enough to justify his interest. An ass was an ass, after all. Harry’s was nicer than most. But Marco was convinced there was another reason he felt so drawn to the young superstar, something not wholly superficial. It was more of the way he’d looked at Marco the night they’d met, when Marco had just joined his new security detail because Harry needed locals who knew the city and could speak the language. All Harry had done then was shake Marco’s hand, but Marco had caught a glimpse of something behind his eyes, and that had been enough.

“Are you always this quiet?”

The question took Marco by surprise, and he tore his gaze away from where he’d been staring guiltily at the backs of Harry’s sweat-slick thighs to focus on his face instead. “Pardon?”

“Usually it’s not this hard to get security to chat a little,” Harry replied. There was no trace of accusation in his features that would indicate he’d realized Marco was staring at him even though Marco was certain he’d been blindingly obvious about it. “You haven’t said a word this whole time,” Harry continued, shifting a little to face Marco until he was almost lying on his side, with only the bunched-up towel around his groin keeping him covered.

“Neither have you,” Marco replied automatically.

Harry’s face suddenly broke into a grin, like Marco’s response had been exactly what he was hoping for. “I don’t like to make the first move,” he said before flopping down onto his stomach again with a soft sigh.

It was easy enough to guess what Harry was hinting at. Marco wondered if he hit on all his security the same way, hoping that one of them would take the bait. Marco couldn’t deny that he was tempted, but….

He scanned down both sides of the beach, keeping an eye out for any wandering tourists that might catch an eyeful of Harry if they strayed too close. There were plenty of places within the resort itself that would have afforded Harry the opportunity to sunbathe with total privacy, but apparently he’d been determined to do it out on the beach where nearly anyone could come walking by. So he was either a chronic risk-taker or an exhibitionist. Maybe both.

“What time is it?” Harry asked sleepily a few minutes later, the sound of his voice startling Marco again even though the silence between the two conversations hadn’t been that long at all.

Marco pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen. “Just after three,” he replied.

Harry pushed himself up onto his knees with a groan. “Gotta be at the boxing gym by four-thirty,” he grumbled before climbing to his feet—while Marco carefully averted his eyes—and pulling a pair of shorts on. “Walk me back to my room?” he asked in a hopeful tone once he was dressed again.

Marco nodded dutifully. He didn’t even need to ask. “Of course.” He stuck close to Harry’s side as they walked back up the beach to the gate marking the property line of the resort. Harry smiled sweetly up at him as Marco held it open for Harry to go through first, his towel clutched tightly to his chest in both hands like a kid clinging to a stuffed animal.

Marco hadn’t seen Harry’s hotel room yet, so he trailed Harry closely and let him lead the way inside. The elevator was empty when they stepped in. Marco stared down at the floor as they ascended to the upper floors and pretended not to notice the heat of Harry’s gaze burning a hole through the center of his forehead.

It was a bad idea in general to sleep with clients. Marco had done it twice before, once with an older married woman from Spain—which had turned out surprisingly well despite the circumstances—and once with the daughter of some multi-millionaire shithead American who had threatened legal action against him once he’d found out. Luckily, the daughter decided to play defense for him on that one, and Marco had escaped with nothing but a slap on the wrist from his superior at the last private security firm he’d worked for.

For whatever reason, Marco had the feeling that choosing to sleep with Harry Styles would turn out a hell of a lot worse.

“You’re straight, right?” Harry asked out of the blue as they made their way down the long hallway to Harry’s room.

Marco was careful not to look over at him as he responded. “I don’t think you’re allowed to ask me things like that.”

Harry let out a stifled snort. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Marco waited until Harry stopped in front of the door to pull out his keycard before giving an answer. “Yeah, I guess I’m straight,” he said, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he forced out the words.

Harry paused in the doorway, his shoulder halfway through as he looked back at Marco with his eyebrows raised. “You guess?”

“Does it matter?” Marco shot back, desperately wishing now that he could extricate himself from this conversation without being even more unprofessional than he already had by virtue of having the conversation in the first place.

Harry’s expression shuttered. He gave a tiny shrug in response. “Sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

Harry moved another inch inside the room. “You’d be surprised,” was all he said before slipping the rest of the way in and shutting the door between them.

Marco stood there for a moment, at a loss for what to do now that Harry had left him without any instruction. He was still on duty through the rest of the afternoon and into the night, though, so he had no choice but to make himself comfortable outside Harry’s door to wait until he finally emerged.

It ended up being a short wait, but when Harry did open the door again, he looked as though he’d barely dried off at all after his shower, his skin sticking to a thin white t-shirt and a pair of threadbare cotton shorts with the waistband rolled over. There was a red bandana in his hair, holding back the strands to short to fit in the tiny bun perched atop his head.

“Ready,” Harry chirped as he marched out the door with his arms swinging past his hips, as though he was just barely suppressing the urge to skip down the hallway to the elevators.

Marco just shook his head before letting out a soft sigh as he followed.

The boxing gym downstairs was empty when they both were led inside by one of the hotel staff. When Marco asked after the whereabouts of the trainer Harry was supposed to work with, the young man at the front desk shrugged and replied that he hadn’t seen him come in that day.

Marco sighed and trudged back into the private section of the much larger establishment to tell Harry the bad news.

Harry didn’t take it quite how Marco had expected. He simply looked Marco up and down, his gaze lingering on Marco’s arms for a long moment before finally drifting back up to his face. “You can train me,” he replied confidently.

Marco just blinked at him. “I don’t know how to box,” he finally said.

Harry lifted an eyebrow and sauntered over to the opposite wall to lean against it, the long lines of his body extended in a way that really shouldn’t have been as tantalizing as it was. “No?” he asked with a stark note of disapproval, like he had actually been expecting Marco to take him up on his offer.

“I did wrestling when I was in school,” Marco found himself volunteering instead, as though that would somehow alleviate Harry’s disappointment.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?” he replied.

“It’s not going to be the same, obviously,” Marco told him, “but if you wanted to wrestle instead just to squeeze a workout in before we head to set….” Marco was familiar enough with the way models and actors would put themselves through the wringer before a shoot just so their muscles would look more defined on camera. Wrestling wasn’t exactly the best option available to Harry in that case, especially since there was an entire weights gym on the other side of the door, but Marco found himself offering despite the lack of practicality.

“You’d wrestle with me?” Harry asked. He hadn’t moved from the far wall since perching himself there at the beginning of their conversation, but he looked tenser now than he had at the start.

“If you wanted me to.”

“How about this,” Harry suggested as he finally pushed off from the wall before walking straight up to Marco, crowding into his space in a way that should have felt more uncomfortable than it did. “I teach you how to box, and you can teach me how to wrestle.”

“Deal.”

Harry was surprisingly knowledgeable about boxing for someone who had hired a professional trainer to work with prior to his shoot. But maybe that was just perfectionism at work, Marco rationalized. Still, his form seemed plenty perfect enough to Marco, whose only familiarity with boxing had been absorbed via the occasional match on TV.

Marco wasn’t doing much more than providing Harry with a target to direct his blows toward, but Harry kept a running commentary throughout the entire process for Marco’s benefit anyway, explaining his stance, the technique for putting his body weight behind each punch while keeping his balance, the necessity of exhaling in time with each throw.

By the time they finished out the half hour that Harry should have spent with his trainer, they were both a little out of breath, though Harry was definitely the worse off between the two of them. He discarded his gloves and wiped away some of the sweat beading on his forehead before sitting down on the mat, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“We don’t have to wrestle if you’ve had enough,” Marco offered.

The look Harry shot up at him was practically a glare. “I’m fine,” he insisted.

Marco just shrugged before taking off his t-shirt and tossing it aside. He ignored the drastic shift in Harry’s expression when he turned around again and instead evaluated the space they had available to them. He wasn’t sure just how Harry would fare considering the stark difference in muscle mass, but Marco figured he could at least teach him the basics.

“Have you ever watched a wrestling match before?” Marco asked. “Like, a real one, not one of the staged ones with the costumes and shit.”

Harry shook his head.

“Okay. I’ll walk you through your stances first, then.” Marco moved a few steps closer before dropping down into a half-crouch to demonstrate the basic stance. “You can stand like this to start,” he said. “Or you can stagger, like this.” He shifted one foot forward so that he was putting more weight on it and held that pose for a few seconds so that Harry could take it all in. “Got it?”

“I think so.”

“Try the basic one.”

Harry scrunched up his brows in an expression of concentration as he made his best attempt to copy what Marco had done. “Like this?” he asked.

Marco nodded even though it wasn’t quite perfect. “Try pushing your hips back a little more,” he suggested, moving behind Harry to guide him into place with a hand on one side of Harry’s waist and the other pressed palm-flat against Harry’s lower back. “There you go.” Harry flinched a little under Marco’s touch but didn’t pull away. “Now the staggered stance.”

Harry shifted into it easily. “Good?”

“Great.”

Harry went pink at the praise. “What’s next?” he asked, without relaxing out of his stance.

“Stay like that,” Marco told him as he finally let go of Harry so he could stand across from him again. “One of the most important moves in wrestling is called the penetrating shot,” he explained.

Harry tweaked an eyebrow upwards but maintained his position as he looked up at Marco. “Interesting name.”

Marco chose to ignore the comment and instead barreled forward with the rest of the explanation. “You shift your weight to the back foot, step forward with the front so you’re between your opponent’s legs—” Marco also ignored the look Harry gave him after that. “The goal is to grab the opponent’s legs to knock them off balance.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“Well, these are the basics,” Marco replied as he straightened up again. “You can relax now, by the way.”

Harry almost looked disappointed as he got to his feet. “Is that it?” he asked. “I was kind of hoping we’d actually, you know, wrestle.”

Marco laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know if we have enough time to get you ready for that, but I can show you a few more moves if you want.”

“Please.”

Marco decided to show Harry a lift next, even though there was little reason for it. He didn’t really envision Harry ever need to use the techniques being demonstrated to him, but it was Harry’s time, and if this was how he wanted to spend it….

“I guess I should have asked if it was okay to touch you before,” Marco realized as he helped Harry get into position again.

“I had no complaints,” Harry replied serenely. “So what exactly should I be doing here?”

“Just keeping yourself loose, open,” Marco replied automatically. He regretted the words once he realized how they sounded, but kept going as though he hadn’t. “I’m going to lift you, like this,” he continued, using his hips to leverage Harry into the air, “and then bring you down to the mat.” He made sure that the impact was controlled, and that when Harry landed with his cheek pressed against the mat and his hips in the air that he hadn’t been injured in any way. “It’s obviously a lot faster in an actual match,” Marco finished as he helped Harry up again.

“I can imagine.” There was a rougher quality to Harry’s voice now that hadn’t been there before, and he quickly cleared his throat before continuing. “So if you had me down like that, is that it? Game over?”

Marco shook his head. “There’s ways to escape being pinned,” he replied. “I can show you that, too.”

They ended up with Harry on his hands and knees and Marco’s arm wrapped around his waist. “Feels like you’ve got me pretty good,” Harry pointed out with a touch of humor.

“You’d have a disadvantage in a real match against me because of the weight difference,” Marco explained, “but for the purposes of showing you what to do—”

“I want you to show me for real,” Harry said suddenly.

“What?”

Harry turned his head as much as he could so that he was peering over his shoulder up at Marco. “Like, let me actually try to escape without just letting me do it.”

Marco was confident that Harry wouldn’t be able to succeed just based on pure physics, but if Harry was that determined to try it, Marco wasn’t going to say no. “Okay,” he agreed after a few seconds. “You need to hold onto my forearm here, and then try to spin onto your back.”

Harry lifted his hand to follow instructions but couldn’t quite spin his body all the way around with Marco holding onto him.

“See,” Marco started to say, “I told you that it wouldn’t—”

Harry suddenly completely the roll, taking advantage of Marco’s momentary distraction to shift partially out of the hold and onto his back. He was still holding Marco’s forearm against his chest, and he hadn’t moved out of his new position and into one that would give him more control of the situation, like he should have if Marco’d had the opportunity to explain the rest of the move.

But when Marco opened his mouth to do just that, he glanced down and couldn’t help but notice the hard line of Harry’s cock straining against his threadbare cotton shorts as he stared up at Marco, panting, his legs spread wide open as though in unspoken invitation.

“Is this really what you want?” Marco asked, bewildered by the fact he’d even found himself in this situation.

“I’ve been asking for it all day,” Harry replied coquettishly. He spread his legs apart even further and tilted his hips up toward Marco’s crotch. “I fingered myself after my shower. I couldn’t wait to get off after I saw how you were looking at me on the beach.”

Marco hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious about it, but apparently, he was wrong. “I should lock the door,” he said dumbly, his throat dry, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move.

It was Harry who finally spurred him into action when he dragged Marco’s hand up from his wait to his throat before releasing him with a sigh. “You can be rough with me,” he said in a quiet voice. “I like it.”

Five minutes later, Harry’s legs were up by his shoulders, the waistband of his cottons shorts pulled over his head and keeping him pinned with his wrists under his knees as Marco fucked into him hard enough that they were both dripping with sweat by the time they switched positions.

Harry struggled the whole way through, forcing Marco to keep a hand pressed up against his throat just to hold him still.

They ended up with Harry bent over the exercise ball in the corner, his shorts tossed aside as he balanced on his forearms while Marco kept his hips propped up with one hand, the other tangled in his hair, pulling hard.

“I’m close, I’m so close,” Harry gasped as he pitched forward a few degrees, nearly unseating himself from Marco’s cock even as he clenched down hard around him in the process, as though desperately trying to hold on.

Marco steadied him again before fucking into him even faster. He was vaguely worried that the indents of his fingers against Harry’s skin would leave visible bruises that would need to be covered before the shoot that night, but the primal instincts that had taken hold of his brain relished the thought of leaving a physical mark on Harry, no matter how impermanent.

“Harder,” Harry urged. “Come on, fuck me, fuck!” No sooner did the words leave his lips than he was groaning loudly, his ass tightening up so much that Marco couldn’t do anything but grind into him desperately as he waited for Harry to come down from his orgasm.

As soon as Harry went limp again, Marco started to pound into him just as furiously as before, and within half a minute, he was pulling out, coming in hot spurts against Harry’s lower back. Marco blinked down dazedly at the aftermath of their frenzied fucking, already feeling the tiniest tendrils of regret beginning to seep in as he realized what he’d just done.

“I’ll get a towel,” Marco volunteered in a quiet voice. He took a few seconds to sort himself out before venturing into the main gym for something he could use to clean up with, and when he walked back into the private boxing gym, Harry had moved off of the exercise ball and was curled up in the fetal position on the floor, his eyes closed.

Marco said nothing as he cleaned his own come from Harry’s skin before balling up the used towel and throwing it straight into the trash. “When do you have to be on set?” he asked when he finally managed to find his voice again.

“Just after seven.”

That didn’t leave them much time, something Marco was increasingly grateful for as the chasm of silence between them deepened.

Getting Harry to set involved a flurry of frantic energy that didn’t allow Marco to dwell on what had happened for more than a few seconds at a time. It wasn’t until later in the night, when Marco was standing off to the side with the rest of the superfluous crew watching Harry perform a series of outfit changes, ending in a short lacy dress, that the unease began to creep in.

Marco immediately broke away from the group in search of coffee, and once he found some, he downed two cups to calm his nerves. He still wasn’t sure yet if the pit forming in the bottom of his stomach was because he’d slept with a man and was now being forced to confront just what that might mean for himself, or if there was something else to it.

Harry was in Mexico for two more days according to the schedule Marco had been given for the rest of the week. He begged off the next night, opting instead to take the last shift that would have him arriving at the hotel to take Harry to a different set than the one he’d filmed at before, and would end with Marco and another guy on the team escorting Harry to the airport in the morning.

Harry barely acknowledged Marco when he showed up at the door to Harry’s hotel room to drive him to set. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before, not even after they’d fucked when Marco had still been wrestling with the regret that no longer plagued him now that he’d had a day to process it all.

Once on set, Harry was the center of attention for everyone involved, and Marco was left to slink off to the side yet again as he waited for the craziness to die down. This time, he ended up making conversation with a few of the extras just to distract himself from what Harry was doing, which worked for a little while. Then those same extras were called over to film a scene where they were all half-naked and grinding on Harry, and Marco found himself watching the whole thing with the same nausea in the pit of his stomach that had plagued him two days ago.

Marco allowed himself a sliver of hope when Harry came walking over at the end of filming with a wide smile on his face, only for that sliver to be crushed out of existence when Harry informed him that he didn’t need a ride back to the hotel as he was planning to go out for a couple hours with some of the people from set.

“But you do still need someone at the hotel?” Marco inquired politely, purely for professional reasons, of course.

Harry seemed hesitant as he answered. “That’s probably for the best, yeah. I guess I’ll see you around.” And just like that, he was gone.

Marco spent the drive back to the hotel cooped up inside his hotel, running through various scenarios of what it might look like when Harry got back from whatever bar he was planning to hit with the other actors from the video. Maybe he’d be tipsy, still high on adrenaline from a round of karaoke and looking to celebrate. Maybe he was drinking away his nerves so that there’d be no mental obstacles between them when he finally got back to his room.

The last scenario Marco would have ever thought to consider was that Harry might not return alone.

Marco recognized the people coming out of the elevator with Harry when they finally showed a few hours later. Two women and a man—all three had been hanging off of Harry for the majority of his shoot while Marco had looked on, feeling something dangerously close to want. Maybe even jealousy. There was something like that simmering in the pit of his stomach now, as he stood guard by Harry’s hotel room door and waited for the group to make their way down the long hallway toward him.

Harry was in the middle. Because of course he was. The tan brunette and the dark-skinned girl from the video had their arms looped around each other as they bumped into Harry playfully with every step. The black guy Marco had spoken to before they’d started filming—he had a hand cupped around the back of Harry’s neck, and there was something possessive about the look in his eyes as he guided Harry down the hallway, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he looked up to meet Marco’s gaze head-on.

Harry’s face was almost childlike in its innocence when they finally approached Marco at the door. “I lost my keycard,” he said a bit sheepishly.

Marco sighed and turned to let them in. He swallowed hard as they walked past him: first the tan brunette, then the black girl, then the man whose name he couldn’t remember. And lastly, Harry, an apologetic smile pasted onto his face as he drunkenly stumbled in after them.

Marco clung to the door, waiting for—he wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t until Harry tumbled onto the center of the bed only for the other man to pounce on him, his mouth attached at Harry’s throat, that Marco finally came to the realization that no matter what had happened between them yesterday, Harry wasn’t about to invite him in to join in.

Marco shut the door quickly, his face flaming. He’d been glad for this shift earlier, when he thought that Harry would be returning to his room alone, when he thought that Harry might be lonely and glad for the convenience of sleeping with someone he already knew. Marco had underestimated him apparently. Or maybe he’d just overestimated himself.

It wasn’t long before the silence behind the door turned to the sound of Harry moaning, the noises painfully familiar to Marco, who had them burned into his mind after what had happened at the boxing gym.

Marco squeezed his eyes shut and tried in vain not to imagine what was taking place on the other side of the wall. Was one of the girls blowing him? Had the man fucked him yet? Was it the other way around? Would any of them chance upon the way Harry screamed when his hair was pulled?

Marco tore himself away from the door and sprinted for the stairwell. There was nothing private about it, except for the fact that it was late and the chances of anyone finding him were slim at best. Still, it was a risk when he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock with one hand, the other clenched tight around the metal railing as he jacked off furiously with his eyes closed, a vision of Harry bent in half with Marco’s cock buried inside him springing to mind without any effort at all.

Marco opened his eyes again as he orgasmed, breathing hard, watching his own come drip down onto the cement floor at the bottom of the stairwell. He was too overwhelmed to feel guilty yet, but he knew that would be inevitable before long.

Finally, he managed to compose himself and slowly edged back into the hallway, taking tiny steps toward the door where Harry and his cohorts were still locked inside. As Marco got closer, an idea started to form in his mind. If he knocked on that door, would Harry say no?

He stopped just short of his destination, his eyes boring into the wood as he tried to force himself to lift his fist and knock. In the end, he couldn’t make himself do it.

Marco turned around again with a sigh and leaned up against the wall next to the door, telling himself it was for the best that he was disengaging from Harry now rather than dragging things out when he was due to leave in less than twelve hours anyway.

Marco was so caught up in his own thoughts as he stood there staring down the empty hallway that he was actually startled when the door next to him suddenly burst open to reveal three half-naked bodies laughing raucously as they stumbled out of the room and past him toward the elevators. The door behind them swung closed and then bounced off the doorjamb, leaving it hanging halfway open as the extras from Harry’s shoot wandered away, oblivious.

Marco watched them disappear into the elevator at the end of the hallway before turning his head to look over at the open door, wondering whether Harry would come over to close it. He didn’t, and as the seconds ticked by, Marco wondered if he should step inside so he could close it himself. Then he began to worry that there was a reason Harry wasn’t getting up to shut it, that something had happened to him, and his feet started to move of their own accord just as a familiar voice emanated from within the room itself.

“You can come inside. I know you want to.”

Marco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, sucked in a deep breath, and walked into Harry’s hotel room.

He closed the door behind himself without thinking about it, only realizing that it might have been in error when he ventured far enough inside to find Harry spread out on top of the sheets, looking freshly wrecked with a hazy expression on his face and an open bottle of champagne sitting next to him on the nightstand. When Marco looked closer, it wasn’t hard to identify the wet spot between Harry’s legs, nor was it difficult to guess what had caused it.

“I kicked them out,” Harry volunteered apropos of nothing, his voice hoarse from a thousand things that Marco could only imagine.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Harry rolled over onto his side, reaching toward the bottle of champagne with clear intent.

Marco beat him to it, grabbing for Harry’s wrist to stop him only for Harry to rip his arm out of Marco’s grip with a noise that resembled a snarl.

“Don’t touch me,” he said coldly. “Or if you do, at least do it right.”

Marco just stared at him. “What?”

“You want to fuck me again, right?” Harry said belligerently. “Well, here I am. It’s just you and me now.” Harry rolled over onto his stomach, tucking his knees under his chest with a hiccupping sigh. There were streaks of come all down the back of his thighs and around his hole, which was still gaping open slightly. The whole room stank of sex and sweat and come, and Marco had never been more tempted to make a mistake in his entire life.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead.

Harry turned his head toward Marco with a furious, tear-filled glare. “What the fuck do you care? Fuck me or get the fuck out.”

Marco chose door number one.

Harry’s skin was cold and clammy under Marco’s hands when he climbed onto the bed and knelt down between Harry’s legs, but he was just as hot inside as he had been when they’d fucked each other silly in the boxing gym. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

Marco stopped once his hips were pressed up against Harry’s ass, too afraid of making the wrong move while Harry was clearly angry and vulnerable to proceed without a specific direction. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted.

It took Harry several seconds to respond. “I want you to fuck me like you don’t care about me,” he said, his voice so close to a whisper that Marco had to strain to make out the words. “I want…I don’t want you to want me to stay.”

Marco remained still as he processed Harry’s request, wondering whether it was the music video that had turned him into a wreck or the alcohol. Maybe the combination of both. Marco had seen enough of the filming to know that there was something deeply emotional behind the song, and he was aware that music could do strange things to people.

Marco stared down at where his hands were framing Harry’s hips for a while longer before finally letting out a long breath. He reached over with his left hand to grab a handful of the duvet and pulled it closer before draping it over Harry so that his head and tattoos were covered by the dark fabric. Now Harry was nothing but a hole, already speared by Marco’s cock, warm and tight and there for him to use until he was finished.

Harry stayed completely silent and still as Marco fucked him. He didn’t react no matter how hard Marco thrusted into him, how rough he was, and he didn’t move a muscle even when Marco came without pulling out, adding to the pool of come that another stranger had already left inside him.

Marco climbed off the bed wordlessly and disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself off. He was careful not to look in the mirror as he busied himself at the sink before walking back into the hotel room to find Harry lying on his side with the duvet drawn up around his neck like a security blanket.

Marco paused in the bathroom doorway and watched him, waiting until Harry finally lifted his eyes to meet Marco’s concerned gaze.

“What are you still doing here?” Harry asked tonelessly.

It wasn’t the question Marco had been expecting after all that. “I thought you might want to talk,” he replied carefully. Clearly, Harry was hurting. Marco wasn’t callous enough to leave him to stew in it alone.

Harry slowly sat up, the duvet slipping out of his fingers to pool around his waist as he stared at Marco with his lip curled in disgust. “I thought I made myself clear,” he said coldly.

Marco immediately opened his mouth to protest. “I just thought—"

“You didn’t think this was something more, did you?” Harry retorted before Marco could finish the thought. “We’ll probably never even see each other again after tomorrow.” Harry reached again for the champagne, and this time, Marco didn’t attempt to stop him. He took a long swig, swallowing hard before opening his mouth again to continue. “I fucked all three of them, you know? I fucked them because I could. I fucked you because I could. It’s as simple as that.”

The silence that followed Harry’s statement was deafening.

Marco continued to stare at Harry, watching as he shrunk down into nothing with each passing second. Finally, he spoke up again. “I’m sorry,” Harry said in a small voice. He seemed a fraction of his former self now. “If you want to switch shifts, I understand. I’ll vouch for you if your superior gives you any trouble for it.”

“It’s fine,” Marco replied evenly. “It’s only a few more hours. I’m sure we’ll both have forgotten all about this in the morning.”

They both knew that was a lie.


End file.
